Two monks sitting on a fallen branch

Looking cowlish, blue and grey against 

The likely sky, just a yap away

From philosophy, perhaps an

Epiphonous chanticleerism;

The one on the left has

Halcyonitis and sips from

Leaf-fonts with an air of celebration;

The one on the right is just back

From the ironymonger's and is still

Squeaky around the coverts.

A likely pair to vote for the

Fellows in the black suits next week,

Like so many of the other

Ravening lumpenpoetariat.